


More than Whiskey in Mind

by n_nami



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Threesome, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29242104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami
Summary: For once, Jensen enjoys an evening just watching.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Danneel Harris, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins/Danneel Harris, Misha Collins/Danneel Harris
Comments: 11
Kudos: 66





	More than Whiskey in Mind

**Author's Note:**

> For my dear trash pandas over at the [Profound Bond Discord Server](https://discord.gg/profoundbond) and the prompt: Misha eats Danneel out while Jensen watches, fully clothed. Enjoy!

Jensen considers the occasion, then considers the contents of his liquor cabinet.

The Laphroig 1997 Quarter Casket seems like a good choice, so he pours himself two fingers of that.

He is not going to miss a single second of whatever is going to happen because he needs a refill.

Humming, he makes his way down the hall to where he'd shooed Danneel and Misha off to.

From the moment Misha stepped into their house, Danneel had been all over him. Not that Jensen would mind. Not that he can't relate. Not that it isn't perfectly clear what is going to happen if the kids are over at Jared's and Misha's in town.

And usually, they would team up on him, those two. Usually, Danneel would have some kind of secret agenda that she had also maybe run by Misha beforehand and by the end of the evening, Jensen would've come his brain out – twice – while they were _still_ at it.

Today isn't one of those days.

Jensen knows exactly that they usually teamed up on him, because early in their... arrangement, jealousy was a factor that had them all reeling, but it tended to ooze from Jensen more than from anyone else. So they always made sure to include him, make him feel not only part of the action, but the center of it all, and it was making his head spin in a way that had Jensen in a blur, floating, ecstatic, and when it was time to appreciate _them_ , when they were done with _him_ , it was often too late.

Not today. He would not miss out on that today. That's been his secret agenda for the evening, ever since he noticed just how happy Danneel was to see Misha.

Danneel greeted him with a hand slipping into his back pocket and an open-mouthed kiss, and Jensen knew – it was one of those days.

One of those days where she might be happy to have her husband in bed, but appreciated the variation of having Misha here with them on a whole different level. And frankly, Jensen is too far into this to overthink it any longer.

From the look Misha threw him over her shoulder, he knew right then and there, too.

And later, after flirting their way through dinner and cleanup, when Misha grabbed her by the thighs to sit her down on the kitchen counter, kissing her, Jensen made an executive decision.

“You two, bedroom, now,” he snapped his fingers, pointing down the hallway. “I'll be right behind you,” he added, waving his empty glass as an explanation.

“Aw,” Danneel crooned, batting her eyes at him to tease him.

“Look who's trying to be bossy,” Misha grinned at him, then turned back to Danneel, eyebrow high on his forehead. “Cute, isn't he?”

At that, Jensen ducked his head. Yeah, Misha totally got him there. Not his usual role in their dynamic, not one he felt totally comfortable with. It's not like he had any business telling either his wife or his boyfriend anything. But they knew it and he knew it, and it was all in good fun.

Misha pushed back from where he stood between Danneel's knees, then, to stand in front of him, tipping his chin upwards with his index finger and a dangerous gleam in those blue eyes.

Jensen swallowed.

Misha seemed to see something in his face as they stared at each other for a moment, and Jensen still has no idea what. It's not like he has an elaborate agenda or something.

However, any remaining, working brain cells were eliminated right there, when Misha leaned in to kiss him breathless, one hand on his chin, the other curled around his middle, tongue rolling along his bottom lip, not quite opening his lips just yet.

And that's how he left Jensen, standing in the kitchen, empty glass in hand, gasping for breath as Misha took Danneel's hand and led her towards their bedroom.

Jensen's and Danneel's bedroom, that is.

With the king-sized bed overlooking their yard, with the floor-to-ceiling windows. The bed where Jensen finds his wife, on her back, with Misha kneeling over her, one leg between hers, kissing as if there was no one else in the room.

There had been a time where Jensen would've had a problem, seeing that. Where his mind would've made shit up, going in circles, questioning if he wasn't enough for her, if something about their marriage was going off the rails.

They've been in this for too long to question this, really. He knows it's not about that.

He knows Danneel loves him.

He knows Danneel is just as in love with Misha as he is, and neither of them ever asked for this. It just happened and they went with it.

So this is okay. Very okay.

Jensen sits down in the love seat, in the corner to the side of the bed, and doesn't bother undressing.

He sips his Laphroig, 1997 Quarter Casket, and watches in silence, tugs at his underwear once to adjust his half-hard cock.

Misha's fingers are trailing down over Danneel's breasts, not yet stopping, not yet, just teasing, over her middle, under her loose blouse, over her belly. Jensen knows how that feels, knows the thrill of her stomach muscles fluttering under feather-light touches, just before you dip your fingers-- and Misha does, dip his fingers under the waistband of her jeans, popping the button and lowering the zipper.

She grins against Misha's lips, lifts her hips when he pushes her jeans down and off. His eyes are dark, hooded, and maybe they overlook Jensen on purpose, maybe they forgot about him – most likely, they are simply comfortably settling in their own little bubble.

Jensen ignores the way his own dick begs for attention, straining against his jeans. He shifts, pulls his leg under himself, rests the hand holding the drink on his knee.

The movement is what makes Danneel look over at him. Misha is busy working on the buttons of her blouse, unwrapping her like a present, deft fingers working their way up. As soon as the layers give way, his hand slips around her ribcage, popping the hook on her bra to shove it upwards.

There's a groan, muffled in her cleavage as Misha buries his face there, and Danneel's head falls back into the cushions, amber hair spilling out over expensive sheets. She doesn't break eye contact with Jensen, her lips curling into a smirk as Misha captures one of her nipples in his mouth and sucks. Her eyes flutter shut at that, her mouth forming around a silent sigh.

Kissing along the swell of her left breast, Misha looks over.

So Jensen did get ignored on purpose. He smiles at Misha to encourage him without saying anything. Misha blows him a kiss and Jensen grins.

It's quiet between them, the good kind. There's not even music, just the sound of their breaths, of Danneel gasping, the smacking sounds of Misha peppering her body with kisses in the most random places, a quiet laugh here, a surprised huff there.

Misha proceeds to lick and kiss and tease his way downwards with Danneel's hands tugging at his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. His hair gets artfully disheveled, and Jensen loves Misha's bed hair, loves causing it, loves seeing it in the morning when he wakes up, loves ruffling it after sex.

Loves watching as his wife cards her fingers through the dark strands, pushing Misha towards her crotch.

The whiskey goes down with a smoky burn that soothes some of the heat flaring up in the pit of Jensen's stomach, but it's also adding fuel to that particular fire.

Misha lies down, flat on his stomach, and his back rolls down in a fluent wave, muscles pulling tight around his shoulders, tensing along his spine, right above the dip of his hips. He wears _that_ pair of dark washed jeans that has Jensen staring at his ass every time. They just fit so well.

He so wants to reach down, massage the bulge in his pants, just to take the edge off. But there's a similar bulge in Misha's jeans, and Jensen knows he won't touch it anytime soon, not like this, and he can't lose to Misha, _not like this._ Plus, he enjoys watching them, even though he's rarely one to watch instead of touch.

With both arms wrapped around and propping up Danneel's thighs, Misha mouths at her thong, white and lacy and see-through, and Jensen has tugged at that particular piece of underwear with his teeth before, too. So yes, he gets it. Gets why Misha locks eyes with Danneel as he noses at the side, pushes at the seam, dips his tongue around the fabric.

Danneel makes a noise that is somewhere between a surprised moan and a breathless laugh. It makes Jensen smile, and in anticipation of what is about to happen, he shifts his feet, makes himself comfortable – as comfortable as it gets, sitting on a loveseat, rock hard.

In the meantime, Misha got her thong down and is now kissing his way up her thighs, from the outside to the inside, makes Danneel shudder and quiver and when he finally licks across her clit, just once, she groans, no holding back, no filter for the noises she makes.

Jensen squirms.

Misha leans down, puts his elbows on the bed, grabs her hips to pull her towards him, and goes to work.

The whole picture is so vanilla, and they've certainly done raunchier stuff than simple oral, but it's so hot it has Jensen shiver all over. His collar is too tight and his rolled-up sleeves are digging into his elbows and he _sweats_.

The worst part is probably the fact that he doesn't even know who to watch. Danneel is beautiful, back arching, hips bucking against Misha's face, the sinful curve of her lips moving with all the little whispers, little pointers for Misha, but mostly with soft sighs as her eyes close in pleasure. The milky-white skin of her thighs, Jensen knows how soft they are when he runs his hands along them, up her sides, to close his hands around the swell of her breasts, like Misha does, right now. He knows how she tastes, knows the feel of her slick on his tongue as he eats her out.

How Misha will taste when he'll get to kiss him, after this.

With a heated look, Misha sucks his index and middle finger into his mouth and _oh--_

Jensen's focus shifts.

Those plush lips have no right to look so perfect, stretched around anything that is not Jensen's cock. Misha trails them down her slit, dips both into her at once, works his wrist to Danneel's obvious enjoyment, closes his lips around her clit once more.

Jensen knows that too, what it feels like to get two of Misha's fingers shoved into himself. Those long, skilled fingers are a menace, and Misha knows them both inside and out, literally, knows where their buttons are and how to push them.

His back is moving constantly, with every flick of his wrist, every push of his hand, and those broad shoulders, muscles filling out his form so perfectly, make Jensen's mouth water. His ass in those jeans is to die for.

Jensen needs more whiskey, what he brought is almost gone. So he savors it, like the picture unfolding in front of his eyes.

Neither Danneel nor Misha look at him, at this point, and why would they. Their eyes lock over the expanse of Danneel's perfect body, and Misha winks and Jensen would laugh if he wasn't so out of it, like he's floating in mid-air, like he's not present in this room, watching from somewhere up in the corner of the ceiling, stuck in an endless loop of wonderful, fruitless arousal, a constant high without release. No spikes, no tips, just a mind-blowing plateau.

Misha's fingers slip free from Danneel's vag, go deeper, and Jensen bites his tongue in an effort not to groan. He can't exactly see, but he _knows_ Misha is working Danneel's ass, pushing one finger in, deeper and deeper, and his chin dips lower, juts forward.

That freakishly long tongue.

Yeah. Jensen knows how that feels, too.

And he can see the bliss on Danneel's face when Misha fucks her on his tongue, when his other hand curls around her hips, locking her in place. When his thumb comes up, rubbing her clit, and Jensen knows it won't be much longer, because there's that hitch in Danneel's breath, there's that glint in Misha's eyes, and he holds her down, fucks her through it as she shakes all the way through an orgasm that punches the air out of her lungs.

For a long moment, Jensen doesn't even dare blink. He mustn't miss this. He mustn't.

Jensen breathes. In through his nose, out through his mouth. It barely works.

He drinks, and finds his glass empty, puts it aside with mild disappointment.

Misha gets to his feet, and just stands there on the foot side of the bed in all his shirtless, almost six-feet glory, looking down at Danneel. There's a proud smirk on his lips when he wipes them with the back of his hand.

Jensen can't move.

Danneel is lying on the bed, one hand above her head, the other resting on her belly, catching her breath. Her eyes meet Jensen's across the room and she grins.

That's when Misha turns around, blue eyes zeroing in on Jensen, crossing the distance with three long strides.

Jensen's eyes travel helplessly up his body, from thick thighs over Misha's slim waist and six pack, over his pecs, to plush, pink, enticing lips.

Misha leans down to kiss him and yes, he tastes like Danneel. Jensen chuckles into the kiss.

Misha growls low in his throat, “You're next,” is all he says, one hand trailing up Jensen's thigh, and Jensen almost comes in his underwear right then and there.

“Mish,” he warns. “Gimme a moment.”

“No,” Misha grins and kneels down in front of him.

**THE END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
